


Guilty Until Proven Innocent

by koganesan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bonding, Crushes, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, Journalism, M/M, Not lovers they're 17!!!, On the Run, PeterFlash, Post Far From Home, Road Trips, Slow Burn, This is already 10k words as a DRAFT, Traveling, Verrrry slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26900275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koganesan/pseuds/koganesan
Summary: When he sees the footage the first thing Flash thinks is, Spiderman wouldn’t do that, closely followed by, PENIS PARKER IS SPIDERMAN?!Which (after some light reflective embarrassment) makes perfect sense, because his third thought is, Parker wouldn’t do that.***Four months after the attack in London, Flash boards a plane to Hungary.No one has seen Peter Parker for 103 days, and he's about to run right into the last person he wants to see.***Two boys take a road trip across Europe on the run from the law, and discover more than just Peter's innocence.***Excerpt from Chapter 3> “How many do you know?” he pushes.“About a hundred or so? I don’t know exactly.”Flash does the math in his head. If Parker moves around approximately every three days, he’s already used up a third of the safehouse addresses. He shivers. He doesn’t want to know what happens when Parker runs out. <
Relationships: Peter Parker/Flash Thompson
Comments: 15
Kudos: 83





	1. Rooftop

**_Spider-Man and the Russian Connection?_ **

_During the early hours of this morning, The Winter Soldier (also known as James Buchanan Barnes) was taken in for questioning on the whereabouts of the vigilante turned villain, Spider-Man. Barnes has a known history of violence and terror attacks._

_Three months ago, after footage revealed that the masked ‘hero’ was actually the mastermind behind the London attack in July this year an international investigation was opened to bring Spider-Man to justice._

_Barnes is not the first member of the self-titled Avengers to be questioned this week. On Wednesday a search warrant of the Avengers compound led to a new source revealing that Peter Parker (Spider-Man’s secret identity) was also an intern at Stark industries. This discovery has led to the questioning of CEO Ms. Pepper Potts along with swathes of staff and the confiscation of an artificial intelligence system known as ‘F.R.I.D.A.Y.’._

_While last year Tony Stark may have fought in the battle for Earth, many of us still remember a time where Stark Industries supplied weapons to the military, many of which were intercepted by Rebels in the Middle East and then pointed toward our own troops._

_It seems clear which part of Tony Stark’s legacy has rubbed off on Parker and experts say it is only a matter of time before he strikes another attack on un-expecting civilians._

Flash exits out of the news site in frustration. He pushes away from the desk and glares at the machine. The little USB swings and bumps against his chest. He touches it subconsciously, the metal warm under his fingertips, thrumming gently with the beat of his heart. A flickering image catches his eye. He looks up. A large screen along the far wall plays the same news story, intercut with footage from London.

He glances around. Almost no one is looking up at the screen. Most are tired travelers staring down at their phones, or else trying to find their gate number on one of the many screens in JFK airport, one woman drags her wailing toddler by the wrist. They’re desensitized to it.

Everyone has seen the footage, most people probably only glanced over the story, maybe saw it as a twitter moment. It’s not that people don’t care anymore, god if anything, most people would say they hate Spider-Man, it’s just that people are waiting on a sighting, an arrest, something more interesting than yet another Avenger being questioned.

It all leaves a bad taste in his mouth as he watches Spi-Parker, swinging wildly around London bridge. Gunfire muted. Conveniently edited.




_When he sees the footage the first thing Flash thinks is,_ Spiderman wouldn’t do that _, closely followed by,_ PENIS PARKER IS SPIDERMAN?!

 _Which (after some light reflective embarrassment) makes perfect sense, because his third thought is,_ Parker wouldn’t do that.

_The footage flicks to some panel discussing what this means for the Accords and Press meetings trying to get a statement from Stark Industries and The Avengers and there’s one small story tag scrolling along the bottom of the screen that says a reporter was assaulted by an unknown man outside of a residential home in Brooklyn._

_Flash’s phone is going off like crazy, messages to a group chat, comments on his YouTube videos, the Spiderman subreddit, a text from MJ. He doesn’t even unlock his phone, instead glued to the news reporter on the screen, the footage rolling over and over again, Parkers face._

_His mind turns over the information on screen, the information he has obsessed over on Spiderman, the few things he knows about Parker, and tries to fit them together._

_Penis Parker, the nerd who Flash had been trying to get a rise out of for years. Loser Parker, who could barely run the mile because of his asthma. Dumbass Parker, objectively the nicest person at Midtown High who tripped over his own feet and liked geeky Star Wars and worked hard and cried that one time he squished a bee and it doesn’t make any sense._

_It doesn’t make any sense._

_It’s like someone has taken three different puzzles and thrown all the pieces into one box, then insisted,_ yes this is one puzzle, don’t be slow of course they all are supposed to be together, _while trying to mash the head of the statue of liberty onto the angel of the north._




_“So that Spiderman kid went to Midtown? Fugitive now, huh? I’m sure you wouldn’t have been associated with the likes of him.” His father throws down the letter, one requesting Flash to attend an interview at the police station, “You didn’t know this Parker kid did you Eugene?”_

_The way his father says it is like a casual question, as if he doesn’t really care about the answer. Flash is glad his face doesn’t show his flush of embarrassment; his body is another matter as his insides squirm. Mr Thompson fixes him with a dangerous look._

_Flash tries not to let it show, that if his father had paid just a little bit more attention to him, they might’ve remembered that he and the ‘Parker kid’ had gone to the Decathlon Nationals together. That Parker had been to every birthday of Flash’s ages 5 through 12, shared classes, even that he’d actually shown up at his Christmas party the previous year, right here in their own home._

_He could remind him,_ not that his father cared, _that Spiderman had saved his life at the Washington Monument. Mother and Father had never even spared a moment to ask if he was alright at the time. He grits his teeth. It makes his decision all the simpler._

_“No, Sir,” he lies easily, looking up and morphing his face to what he hopes appears as offended. His father, thankfully, relaxes. Picking the letter back up again, he squints at the text unkindly._

_“Wonderful. We’ll just call them up and you can say you didn’t know him and be done with the whole matter,” he smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes._

_Flash’s stomach drops. While his father might be easily fooled, no doubt the police wouldn’t have asked for his interview if they didn’t have some kind of connection from Parker to himself._

_He hopes that MJ is right, that he’s been fast and thorough enough._

_“It’s probably about the Europe trip, they’ll probably be interviewing everyone who went. What with everything that happened,” he shrugs like it’s no big deal but his father’s mouth presses into a hard line._

_“And you’re sure that’s all?” and Flash doesn’t miss the quiet threat in his voice, one that reminds him that affluent neighbours might get to talking, if the FBI showed up on his doorstep._

_“Yes Sir,”_




Flash sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, before glaring at the Google homepage once more. He’s still got 20 minutes until his gate is called, one last check probably won’t hurt.

As he types in the webpage address, that doubt begins to creep into the back of his head again. How he even got here is surreal enough. Hell, it’s not even his plan.

If you’d asked him three months ago if he was glad that he _hadn’t_ been the one to make the Spiderman subreddit, he might’ve wished he had, what with its popularity. Now he’s _oh so grateful_ that it was one less connection between him and Spiderman. He had been worried about his Instagram but MJ had proven to have some surprisingly scary skills at erasing his social media presence from the internet. He’d asked her where she leant to do that. She only glared at him reproachfully but muttered something under her breath about government surveillance. Flash hadn’t asked again.

He hits enter and the first of three password pages greets him.

The Spiderman forum had proved to be an absolute font of information, surprisingly enough as it only had around 41 dedicated users. Flash had set up the server as a very exclusive discussion board for only the very biggest of Spiderman’s fans, and spent several very sleepless nights teaching himself about site encryption and learning advanced coding in order to protect the forum from ‘anti’s’.

So far, his efforts have not been in vain.

In the days post Spiderman’s reveal, the forum had been an explosion of activity. Everything from finding out as much about Peter Parkers private life as possible, to speculating what Spiderman’s next moves might be. There was one thing that every user seemed to agree on though. _Whatever the footage might show, Spiderman wouldn’t do that._




_“You know about the forum?”_

_“Don’t be slow Flash I’m one of the users,” she rolls her eyes in exasperation. “Look we don’t have much time, Betty can explain it better than I can,”_




The third password is accepted, and the forum posts load up quickly, the most recent one from only an hour ago.

Flash has been following the forum religiously for the last three months. After the first few days, the forum quickly stopped being about who exactly Peter Parker is, and instead turned into an international game of Where’s Waldo.

It seems impossible that with almost every country on a high alert search and international investigation, that miraculously Peter Parker seemed to have disappeared from the face of the Earth.

The same cannot be said for Spiderman.

At least not to the forum. Small town news reports for Hungary, Slovakia, Belarus, Ukraine, that describe miraculous acts of kindness. A man saved from a fast-flowing river, a little girl turning up at a police station 40 miles from home, a woman who found herself stuck to the railings of a bridge when she tried to jump to the road below.

He’s there in the background, just beyond the lines of a 100-word article, no picture, some claimed miracles. Some of the commenters on the News Sites thank God, but to Flash and the other forum users, they just scream Spiderman.

The new post is a short article from a city newspaper in Debrecen, about half a day’s journey east from Budapest. A shopkeeper who miraculously survived a stroke after being dropped off at the steps of the hospital but couldn’t recall how he got there.

Flash frowns. He’s got a day and a half to catch up.




The carriage is humid for early November. Flash is boxed into the window at a table seat, the business man next to him digging an elbow into his ribs. Its uncomfortably hot. Just pulling on the collar of his shirt is difficult enough without the woman opposite shooting him a dirty look anytime he dare move to cool himself. He wonders what her problem is as he folds his arms across his chest.

Not having his phone to look at is a comfort he really craves. It would be far easier to ignore the other passengers if he were able to scroll through Instagram right now. Instead he tries to lean as far away from the business man and stares out of the window.

The landscape rushes past in a blur. Flash’s eyes don’t particularly focus on anything as it speeds by.

Two little water droplets run down the inside of the glass. He watches them for a moment as they race each other down the window. One droplet drifts towards the other, and where their paths meet they join up to make one fat drop that races towards the sill.

Flash still isn’t sure if he’s come to terms with the fact that Spiderman, his hero, is in fact, Peter Parker, his, well… what he’s not certain.

 _“You said Spiderman inspires you to be a better man,”_ MJ’s voice rings in his mind, _“well, it’s time to step up Flash,”._

Their plan could work, Flash doesn’t doubt that. He also doesn’t doubt that Parker is going to be anything but pleased to see, of all people, him.

He _had_ said that he wanted to help. Surely Ned or MJ would have been much better for the task but, options had been thin on the ground, and they had turned to him and he hadn’t exactly been that hard to convince.

MJ had been furious after the Avengers released their statement. While they didn’t confirm anything from the video, they also didn’t deny anything either. The Accords had been enacted, placing the hero’s under surveillance should Peter try to contact them.

 _“How has the world forgotten everything they did for us?”_ MJ had fumed, _“One minute they’re hero’s, the next they’re being treated like criminals again,”_ and he and Ned had been too afraid to say anything in case MJ started shouting at _them._

His fingers brush the USB beneath his shirt again.

It’s a small and unassuming thing. Flash would never say it to his face but, he was seriously impressed with the amount of tech Ned had managed to pack into the thing. A terabyte of storage, a microphone and a compact camera.

_“And it automatically installs a network of VPN’s onto whatever computer you’re using, just in case. Oh, and if you put the password in wrong three times it blows up,” Ned beams._

The carriage rocks, and the man next to him bumps shoulders again sending him a disdainful glare. Flash sighs, shifting the duffle bag between his legs further under the seat. It doesn’t make much more room. There’s a sudden wash of panic in his stomach.

He bends down with difficulty and brushes a hand across the side of the bag, checking for something. His fingers still on a lemon sized lump. The little box is still there. He relaxes and sits back up just as the announcement for his stop is called.

On the way out, he steps on the businessman’s toes for good measure.

The light is failing rapidly as the cool air greets him at the train station platform. He takes a few long deep breaths, glad to be free of the humid environment. A few other passengers filter past him, but the station is otherwise quiet. He shifts the bag more comfortably over his shoulder and exits out onto the main street.

A small knot of concern twists itself in his stomach. This is the part of the plan that only works if he’s made it in enough time. There’s a chance that Parker may have already moved on from the city, the forum seems to suggest that he never stays in one place for long. He doesn’t really fancy the prospect of playing a game of cat and mouse across eastern Europe, whilst always being two steps behind. No, he needs to find Parker tonight.

_Or rather, Parker needs to find him._

He walks about half an hour before he finds a suitable building. Derelict and at least ten stories high. Searching the ally between this building and its neighbor Flash finds a gated off stairwell, that appears only to be guarded by the rats who scuttle away at his approach. A few good tugs later the rusted hinges give with a squeal, and the door to the outer stairs opens enough for Flash to squeeze himself though. By the time he reaches the roof his face is flushed red and his legs are burning. He gives himself a few moments to catch his breath.

The streetlights are beginning to switch on, casting the street below into a pale orange light. The last few patrons of a kebab shop head home as the owner pulls down a metal shutter, sending a loud _clang_ though the night.

Flash sheds the bag and his coat, tucking them next to a protruding air vent and walking up to the edge.

The ledge is about two feet high and half that across. The knot in his stomach tangles tighter as he peers to the pavement below. His pounding heart has little to do with the stairs anymore.

There is no longer anyone in sight on the street below, and a cold breeze suddenly whips up the trees, a few brittle brown leaves floating off into the air.

_Maybe this is a very stupid idea._

And for one short moment he hesitates _. What if he had miscalculated? Or gotten the location wrong? Or arrived too late?_

Flash pushes the thoughts away. If he doesn’t do this now, he might not get the chance again.

So, very carefully, and trying not to let his legs shake, he climbs up onto the ledge. The ground suddenly looks so much further away that it had a moment before and in the silence the thumping of his heart sounds like a drum. The seconds drag. His legs are frozen to the spot and the ground below seems to tilt as his ears start to ring.

_This is most certainly a **very** stupid idea. _

He thinks about stepping back onto the roof when a sudden gust of wind pushes him from behind.

Time slows.

Teetering forward, arms flailing wildly to regain his balance, Flash’s stomach drops as he realizes he is past the point of no return, and the streetlights below wink cold and unwelcoming.

And then he is on his back, winded, staring up at the night sky, stars twinkling faintly.

_I’ve never seen so many stars before._

He thinks stupidly.

Then he realizes he can’t move his arms.

Blinking rapidly Flash lifts his head and scans the shadows until their eyes meet, staring one another down in the dark.

“What…” Parker growls “…the _fuck,_ are _you_ doing here?”


	2. Token

For his eighth birthday, Flash had begged his father to go the local ice rink. And since he was only on his fourth beer of the day, Harrison had pulled a $50 out of his wallet and told his son to ‘ _do whatever he wanted’._

Flash had run all three blocks to Peters house. When Peters Uncle answered the frantic knocking at the front door and saw the panting boy on his doorstep, birthday boy button askew on his jumper, he had smiled at him. At the time, Flash hadn’t known a smile could be so sad.

After Flash had fallen over for a _third_ time, Peter finally asked if he had ever been skating before. Indignantly he’d crossed his arms, ears turning red, and whispered a faint ‘no’ to the ice below him. He had expected Peter to laugh at him, or for Mr. Parker to get frustrated.

Instead, they had all linked arms, Flash in the middle, and shuffled around the rink until he could finally make it around on his own. He and Peter had raced each other in circles until their time was up. Red faced and grinning they had gotten waffles and ice-cream after. Then when Mr. Parker had asked if he would like to stay for a sleepover Flash had been ecstatic, and he and Peter had stayed up half the night giggling and playing video games.

Flash can’t pinpoint when it all changed, when their normal conversations turned into snide remarks and Peter got quieter and quieter. More and more distant.

In high-school Flash only got worse, the insults became harsher, the words cutting deeper as Parker stopped speaking to him.

But even with all of that, Parker had never gotten angry. Never lashed out at Flash in return. And that scared Flash, because Parker knew him, _really_ knew him. If he wanted to, Parker could say things that Flash was afraid to admit to himself.

Only Parker just stared past him, and shook his head, tired. And Flash knew what a sad smile looked like now.

Parker wore one all the time.

Which is why Flash is so taken aback. He still can’t move a muscle, but he stares at Parker in the dark. It sounds like nothing he’s ever heard come out of Parkers mouth before.

He sounds, _livid._

His eyes adjusting to the dark he can see that Parker has one arm raised, pointing directly at him, his face full of sharp lines even in the dim light. He takes a half step forward, into the light coming from a nearby building. Even with the severe shadow across half of his face, Flash can see the dark circles under his eyes.

“Who sent you here?” Parker snaps, and Flash suddenly realizes he hasn’t said anything and that he also _did not plan this far ahead_.

“N-no one sent me,” He stutters. Parker doesn’t move. _He doesn’t believe me._ “Parker, I swear.”

Parker’s eyes shift rapidly, from Flash, to the surrounding rooftop, to the sky. Flash can hear his breathing, rapid. _Is his hand shaking?_

“How do I know you’re real?” Parker asks, quiet and low, “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

Flash squashes the squirming feeling in his chest that the first question stirs, and focuses on the second. His backpack and coat are within reach as he realizes one of his arms is still free to move. He goes to reach for it to…

“Keep your hands right there!” Flash freezes, his own heart thumping once again. That something else in Parkers voice is _panic._

“Okay, okay,” He has to stay calm, ensure that Parker doesn’t bolt, “Check the front pocket of the bag, there should be a box.”

Parker hesitates, eyes flicking back and forth between Flash and the backpack. They’re at a stand-off. Parker has no reason to trust him, clearly wary. Flash wonders when the last time was that Parker could trust someone.

He can’t tell how long they stay there like that. Seconds? Minutes? Hours?

Then Parker takes another step forward, then another, never once taking his gaze off of Flash, arm still raised threateningly. He pulls the bag towards him with one foot, then crouches down, unzipping the pocket with his free hand.

The box, no bigger than a lemon, rattles when he picks it up. Cautiously, Parker flicks the lid up with his thumb and takes his gaze off of Flash for the first time.

Flash can’t hear Parkers breathing anymore.

“Where did you get this?” its barely more than a whisper, but the anger has vanished.

“Michelle,” Flash answers, “she said you’d know what it meant. They said letters were too risky.” He’s rambling, “Her and Ned, they’re being tracked, I- “

Parkers arm lowers, and Flash shuts his mouth. He watches as Parker gently takes out the broken necklace, holds it up so the streetlight catches it, then looks back into the box. Stashing the necklace in his pocket he then takes out a small Lego figurine, turning it over and over in his hands.

Parker looks up, and their eyes meet.

“There are too many eyes here”

And Flash lets go the breath he didn’t know he was holding.




The hallway light flickers dimly as Parker finally comes to a stop in front of a door. Three floors below the building attendant hadn’t even glanced up from reading the paper as they entered. The carpet thick with grime, the windows fogged with dust and dirt, wallpaper peeling. _They probably don’t pay him enough to care,_ Flash thinks.

Just above the peephole, a lighter mark in the wood reads 41, but the metal numbers that would have once been there are noticeably missing. As Parker unlocks the door Flash spies obvious scratch marks around the keyhole.

It’s more of a surprise that the door doesn’t creak, given the state of the rest of the building.

Parker flicks on the lights.

The apartment is unnervingly sparse. The open plan living space has little but the bare necessities by way of furniture. A single chair tucked in at a flimsy plastic table, above which the lightbulb hangs with no lampshade. In the far corner, though still no more than about 10ft away, a single bed, it’s sheets still look freshly made.

Parker shuts the door behind him, then locks it again.

For the first time tonight Flash gets a good look at him. The fluorescent light shines a yellow cast over them both, but that doesn’t hide just how pale Parker is. Their eyes meet, dark circles like bruises and the bloodshot vessels like cuts. There’s something about the way Parker looks at him that makes Flash grip the straps of the backpack a little tighter.

They’re dark. Flat.

He can see the box tucked in the front pocket of Parker’s hoodie, which hangs awkwardly on his frame. The sleeves look threadbare and worn.

He points at the chair. Flash sits, backpack tucked between his legs. There’s a creak from the floorboards above and looks up. Dust floats lazily around the bulb.

“Why are you here?” Parker’s gaze has not moved from him, as he brings his eyes back down. Flash swallows.

“To help,” it comes out quieter than he want’s, and he half expects Parker to laugh. He doesn’t.

“Why?” it’s not a question he is prepared for. Flash stares blankly at him as his brain grinds to a halt. _Why did he want to help?_

“Because you didn’t do it,” it comes out without thinking.

Parker sighs.

“Well, I’m glad you think so,” and maybe he’s going mad because it doesn’t sound sarcastic or frustrated like he expected. Instead, Parker sounds _tired._

“It’s just that, uh” _shut up Flash, shut up!_ “Everyone has something to say, everyone is speaking _for_ you, and that not, you know, fair?” he really wants to smack himself for not preparing for this part better. He really had thought that, in the moment, the right way to explain everything would come to him. Evidently, not. He watches Parker shake his head.

“That’s…uh, considerate of you Flash, but I can’t exactly hold a press conference, can I?”

“No, but –“

“But nothing!” Flash shuts up, “Even _if_ I could tell “my side of the story”, it’s not like anyone is going to believe it, are they? Everyone thinks all that stuff that happened this summer was me,” Parker pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, “so unless you can change public opinion, I don’t know what you hope to achieve.”

“Not…” Flash fiddles with one of the straps of his bag, “not everyone believes it,” he catches Parkers eye, who says nothing so Flash continues, “I, we, uh, MJ and I have been keeping track of you,” his face flushes but he continues, “that little girl in Slanec, the woman in Záhony, we just knew. But nobody else knows. If people knew you were still doing those kinds of things, they, you know, might not think that this summer was, well, _you._ ” Flash knows he’s explaining this badly. “What I mean is, if people had _evidence_ that those things were you, like, photos or videos –“

“You want to make ‘positive propaganda’ about me?” Parker cuts him off.

“No! It’s just, it’s not fake! It’s just you doing your thing and I make sure I’m there to film it.” Parker doesn’t look convinced. He remembers the string around his neck and pulls out the USB, “ Ned made this,” he holds it up for Parker to see it better, “It does stuff I don’t really understand but it uses VPNs to make anything I upload difficult to trace to a location. And it can explode, apparently.”

A noise erupts from Parker suddenly and Flash is taken aback for a moment until he realizes that, he’s _laughing?_

“Yeah, that sounds about Ned,” he sighs, then takes a deep breath and frowns at Flash again. "But, what about your parents? What about the school? Won't they be looking for you?" 

Flash rubs the fabric of the backpack arms between his fingers, pushing down the memory of shouting creeping into his mind. He can't meet Parkers eyes.

"My grades tanked, I dropped out" It's half of the truth.

"And your parents?" Parker repeats. 

"No, they won't be looking for me," the words are bitter on his tongue. There are a few long moments of silence as Flash waits for the question. But it never comes. Instead, he hears Parker sigh.

“Okay, you want to help?”

“Yes,” Flash nods, even with the dejected tone in Parkers voice.

“Then how did you find me? Those people, none of the local papers mentioned anything about me, and people with more resources that you haven’t been able to find me. So, how?”

Flash feels the heat rising in his cheeks.

“Everyone else is looking for Peter Parker, not…” he can’t bring himself to say it.

Parker’s face falls, just for a moment before righting himself, his shoulders slump.

“I understand,”


	3. Condensed Milk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some minor edits have been made to the end of chapter two.

**_Spider-Man Spotted In Hungary_ **

_In the ongoing hunt for the criminal Peter Parker, progress so far has been slow. The elusive superhuman has not been sighted for several months, until now! Exclusive footage from an anonymous source shows the American teenager jumping into oncoming traffic to grab 5-year-old Nora Szabó, who was about to be hit by a city bus._

_From the analyzed footage - understood to be taken in the city of Debrecen – has sparked new lines of investigation, and police presence in the city has been doubled. More on page 4._

* * *

The first couple of weeks are frosty. While Parker might trust him enough to let Flash tag along, he still keeps his distance. Usually taking to staying on the far side of the room whenever Flash beds down for the night.

Parker doesn’t sleep much, always watching out of windows through cracks in the curtains. One of the places they go to is in the basement of a disused bookshop, the only window high up on the wall at ground level, where only the ankles of the people walking by can be seen, and Parker rarely takes his eyes off the pairs of shoes passing by. That place they only stay for one night.

In fact, as far as Flash can tell, the only time Parker seems to sleep is on the trains.

Usually during the early hours before sunrise, they sneak their way down onto the tracks and onto a freight train going in the direction they want to. As the trains pick up speed, Parker lays his bare hands flat to the metal. They’re usually close to blue by the time they reach their destination. Whatever it is keeps Parker upright, even as his head lolls forwards onto his chest. Unlike Parker, Flash can’t stand the cold, and every jostle and jolt of the tracks sends his heartrate rocketing upwards. Parker probably only sleeps due to sheer exhaustion.

* * *

**_Parker Sighted in Romania_ **

_During the early hours of Tuesday, November 12 th, a young homeless man arrived at the Arad County Hospital Department. The man, who wished to remain anonymous, had overdosed on Fentanyl, and had no recollection of arriving at the Hospital._

_Footage from a security camera showed the man being dropped off at the entrance to the Emergency Department. His deliverer? None other than wanted criminal Peter Parker (also known as Spider-Man) whose destructive activities in Europe this summer cost the lives of 17 people in London, England. Authorities say they are on high alert and searches of the area are being taken. More on page 3._

* * *

The fifth time they move, Flash squashes down enough of his pride to ask Parker how he knows where to go. Each of the places they stay seem deserted or disused, frequently finding hidden keys or jimmying locks. They’ve just made their way into a squat house on the outskirts of a village called Dinias, though the back door using a key Parker produced from underneath a loose wooden slat.

Parker shrugs off his bag onto the lumpy, threadbare couch, before making his way over to the window, checking the street outside. He adjusts the curtains to close the slit in them, blocking more of the light from the streetlamps outside.

“When I got out of the US,” Flash can hardly see Parkers face in the dark, only a silhouette, “there wasn’t a lot of time to plan anything. So, they sent me on a flight over here with Sargent Barnes. He knew about a lot of safehouses from his time as The Winter Soldier that were, “secure”, or at least, only he knew about them. I had that one flight to remember all of the addresses, how to get in. Some of these places are second homes so I had to know exactly when their owners would or wouldn’t be here. And, how to check if I didn’t know,” Parkers silhouette shrugs, “A list was too risky in case I lost it, you know”

Parker’s tone is unreadable. Its as if he’s describing something that happened to someone else. Detached. It makes Flash uneasy.

“How many do you know?” he pushes.

“About a hundred or so? I don’t know exactly.”

Flash does the math in his head. If Parker moves around approximately every three days, he’s already used up a third of the safehouse addresses. He shivers. He doesn’t want to know what happens when Parker runs out.

* * *

 **_Wanted Criminal Peter Parker Stops Mugging?_ ** ****

_Witnesses reported a failed mugging of an elderly man on Friday November 15 th in the city of Szeged. Footage once again has shown the criminal Spider-Man (alias: Peter Parker), stopping a mugger by disarming him once he had pulled out a knife to threaten his elderly target. _

_Victim István Nagy, expressed his gratitude towards Mr. Parker. “If he had not shown up, I don’t know what would have happened to me. The police say this young man has done terrible things, but would someone so terrible stop to help an old man?” Continued on page 6._

* * *

Some of the houses have loose floorboards. Flash knows this because he has watched Parker pull them up on two separate occasions. The first time, he had seen Parker take out a shoebox from under floor of where an armchair had been and seen a number of small rectangular booklets in the bottom of it that he thought might have been passports. But Parker had put the box back before he could get a better look at them.

The second time, Parker pulled up a thick brown envelope that had been filled with pages and pages of writing in a language Flash didn’t understand, but Parker seemed more interested in the few crumpled notes of Romanian leu wedged halfway down the stack. Flash had watched him grab them, before stuffing the envelope back under the floor.

Flash hardly saw Parker handle money. In fact, Flash had been going into local markets and minimarts at each of their safe houses and stocking up on food. He’d noticed on that first night, that Parker had been looking thin, and as the days had gone on, he’d watched as Parker rummaged through the cupboards of each house they stayed in. More often than not, coming away empty handed.

So, Flash had started leaving out loaves of bread, blocks of cheese, and even bags of dried fruit when it wasn’t too expensive. Parker usually said nothing, but when Flash would wake the following morning, his portion would be left, the rest, gone.

In one of the smaller villages he finds a bakery. Or rather, his nose leads him right into the open doors and the smell of cooked meat and vegetables makes his mouth water. It’s a little more than he would usually have spent as he shuffles back out onto the street, clutching the warm bag to his chest.

At the house, he finds Parker sat at the table, but leaning back awkwardly to have a view of the window. Parker acknowledges him with a nod, then does a double take as he notices the package in Flash’s hands.

Flash wordlessly puts down two of the three - still hot - Piroshki’s in front of him. Parker stares at the food in bewilderment for a moment before clearing his throat.

“Thanks,” Flash just shrugs, then takes the seat at the opposite end of the table, unwrapping his own roll and taking a bite.

Out of the corner of his eye he watches as Parker slowly picks up the first roll, unwraps it from its paper. When he takes the first bite, his eyes close, some of the tension disappearing from his face. And Flash can’t tear his own eyes away as he watches the way Parker’s shoulders relax just a little as he chews, and wonders when the last time Parker had a hot meal was.

Then in an instant of realization he snaps his eyes away, back down to his own food, as though studying it intently, ears burning.

He’s glad Parker is eating. He doesn’t know why he cares.

* * *

 **_Spider-Man: A Growing Concern_ **

_With more and more frequent sightings of Peter Parker (better known as Spider-Man) coming out of eastern Europe, there have been growing concerns at the lack of progress being made with regards to his capture. Some sources have pointed to a lack of cooperation between the European police and US investigators, as well as delayed responses to sightings._

_While Mr. Parker does not appear to be behaving in a threatening manner, we strongly recommend that you do not approach him, and report any information to the dedicated hotline – Number can be found on page 2 where the article continues._

* * *

At the next house, there’s a room off of the kitchen, a pantry, that’s stocked floor to ceiling with canned goods. There’s room for the two of them as they stand looking though the tins, trying to figure out what might be inside of them from the faded pictures on the outside.

Flash is studying what he thinks might be a can of peas when Parker lets out a short gasp beside him. He looks over his shoulder and sees him shimmy a can from behind a fairly packed shelf, and his eyes seem to light up as he brings the label closer to his face.

“Wha-?” Flash starts, but Parker has already turned on his heels and is rummaging through the kitchen draws, finally pulling out a tin opener with a flourish. Intrigued, Flash leans against the doorframe, watching as Parker opens the tin, then rummages again until he finds a spoon.

A sugary smell permeates the air, and Flash squints at the can to see its contents, but not before Parker sticks the spoon into the thick yellowy-cream coloured substance, and then shoves it into his mouth.

The smell is familiar, and then it dawns on him.

“Is, is that _condensed milk_?” he asks, and horrifyingly, Parker, hunched over the counter and the tin, nods. “Parker, that’s disgusting!” Flash grimaces as Parker eats another spoonful, then flips him off. Flash laughs. “No really, Gordon Ramsey would be horrified. Jamie Oliver would have a heart attack. America’s test kitchen is waking up in a cold sweat as we speak!”

Inexplicably, Parker snorts. And it’s like something shifts, because Parker has a grin on his face for the first time since Flash has been here.

“Oh, and what’s your meal then?” Parker asks, feigning seriousness, though its somewhat lessened by the fact it’s through a mouthful of goop. Flash raises an eyebrow and smacks down-

“A can of beans? Really? Pot, kettle, Flash.” Parker sounds mortified but the half smile is still there. Flash rolls his eyes as he dumps the beans into a bowl and into the microwave.

“At least mine has protein Parker. That-” he jabs an accusing finger at the offending can, “-is pure sugar.”

It’s Parker’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Fine, eat your boring beans. This, this is liquid gold” Parker snatches his can off the counter and flops into the saggy armchair in the adjoined living space. Flash snorts.

“I don’t know what kind of gold you’ve seen,” He says, turning his back to retrieve his food from the microwave.

He hears Parkers indignant ‘Oi” half a second before something thwacks him in the back of the head. He touches the back of his head, only to find, a spoon, stuck with thick, sugary, sauce, in his hair. He turns slowly on the spot until his eyes meet Parkers. They stare at one another for a second, Flash shocked, Parker trying his best not to look guilty.

Then they both burst out laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to thank everyone who has kudos'd, commented, bookmarked' or subscribed to this fic. This has been a passion project a year in the making and your enthusiasm and encouragement has cemented my resolve to complete this work. There are some good chapters to come, particularly around Christmas and new year, so the timings of their release should coincide with those dates also happening in the fic world. I know that this isn't a popular paring, but I love to suffer I guess???
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading, hopefully a new chapter will be out soon :)


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